


The Perfect Distraction

by hawkywithshawzy



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:06:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkywithshawzy/pseuds/hawkywithshawzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonny always seemed to be the perfect distraction, from whatever was bothering you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I do talk about a panic/anxiety attack for a brief moment in here, but nothing too serious. I know how they feel and I just tried to get it across how I experience them, though I know they are different for everyone. No generalization here :)

This day was turning out to be a gloomy one. The rain outside just wouldn’t quit, and the stupid midterm paper you had to write wasn’t going to write itself. It was on socialism, and you didn’t really care all that much about socialism, but it would help boost your grade to that 96% you want, so you plow through it. Your short legs dangled from the chair as you sat at the counter, reading a little of your notes, typing, taking a swig of water, and repeating the process. It was grueling and your could feel your neck starting to get tight, the weight of the 12 am deadline weighing hard on your muscles. Though it was only 4 pm, you just wanted to get the paper over with and done for. 

Jonny knew how much school meant to you. It was the long nights, the endless amounts of coffee, and the anxiety attacks. They weren’t happening as much as they used to, but you could feel one coming on now. Jonny wasn’t home, he was out with the guys for a late lunch, and you didn’t want to call him because you knew he had had a rough week on the road, losing two out of the three games. You could feel your hands getting tingly, and your vision starting to blur a bit. You tried to just drink some water to calm yourself down, but your throat was constricting and you couldn’t get any water down. Your breath was getting heavier and heavier, and the tears started rolling as you made your way to the couch in the nearby living room. You knew it’d be over in a few minutes, just give it time to run it’s course, but knowing that fact didn’t make it any easier. You stumbled across the floor to grab Jonny’s sweatshirt, the warm and well-worn Blackhawks one, with the strings missing from the hood. You snuggled into the familiarness of the sweatshirt, letting the smell of Jonny’s cologne calm your nerves down. Just as you were starting to feel a change, you heard the keys rattle in the door, and Jonny walked in.

He was wearing that nice baby blue button down your mom bought for him for Christmas this year, and a pair of worn-in jeans. He had just shaven the night before, clean face looking soft, even from across the room. He was about to say something to you when he looked up from the floor where he lined his shoes up neatly and saw the position you were currently in: curled up in a ball, head down, hood up. He could hear the sniffles and visibly see you shaking. It didn’t take long for him to register what was going on.

“Y/N, Y/N, what’s wrong sweetie? What happened?” He glanced over at the counter where the glass of water was spilled over and dripping over the edge, making small puttering noises every time a drop hit the floor. Your laptop was still open, Microsoft Word bearing your essay that had yet to be finished. You just kept crying, not sure why Jonny walking in triggered you even more, but desperately trying to cling onto something that would bring you back to him. He was the answer to your every question, the safe place in your world of darkness. It was then that he took you into his arms, burying your face in his chest and feeling his hands hold your head close, as if you were going to jump out of his embrace. He gently tried to pull the hood back off your head, and he brushed the hair out of your eyes. They were red and they stung both from the amount of time you spent staring at your computer, and your nonstop tears.

“Hey, hey, shhh, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” he soothed, slowly rocking you back and forth and kissing your head. It was nice, being there with him, knowing he wasn’t going to get you go anytime soon. You unclenched your fists from his shirt, which you didn’t even know you were doing, and your breathing started to become more even. You were afraid to look up at him, because you knew your face was going to be red and swollen and just plain gross, but you forced yourself to anyway. His eyes searched yours, wanting to find an answer without making you speak, but you filled the heavy silence.

“I’m okay,” you managed, Jonny not totally buying it. “I am, seriously, I’m just mad. I was doing so well, I haven’t had one in like, a month. I can’t believe I blew it,” you sighed, letting him draw you closer again.

“No, you didn’t blow it, sweetheart. You didn’t blow it. You’re so strong, stronger than me or Duncs or any of them, stronger than anyone. It’s okay to fold sometimes, it’s okay to surrender. But you just gotta know that you’re strong, even when you fall. You’re okay,” his speech sounded like something he’d give a guy like Kaner when he wasn’t scoring and was feeling down about it. “One minute at a time,” he’d tell him, just as he’s telling me now.

“Wait, I have an idea,” he says quickly, leaving the couch and dragging your hand with him. Stay here, don’t move,” he instructs, patting your shoulders in the spot he wanted you in, rushing into the kitchen and coming back with his phone in hand.

“Jon, what are you-” he cut you off when the music started playing over the speakers. It was one of your favorites of all-time, ABC by The Jackson 5. It was what you listened to when you were sad, when you were happy, whenever you wanted to feel good. A huge smile broke out on your face when you saw that he had his hand extended for yours, wanting to dance. You gladly took it, and he swung you around the living room, giggles leaving both of your mouths as Jonny showed off his awful dance moves. You both sang on the top of your lungs, every word, until the song was over and you were both in a fit of laughter.

“That’s exactly what I needed, Jonny. How’d you know to play that song?” you asked, curious to how he pulled it up so fast off his phone.

“Well, I know that you listen to it all the time, especially when you’re stressed out, so I figured I’d just buy it and keep it on standby in case you need it, like right now, which I guess worked out, then, didn’t it?” he said, a smile creeping up on his face, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. 

“It did, babe, it did,” you smiled, and he pulled you in for another dance as Come on Eileen blasted through the speakers, the perfect distraction.


End file.
